


Plunder

by were_lemur



Category: Pirates of the Carribean
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-19
Updated: 2009-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were_lemur/pseuds/were_lemur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>men have all kinds of ways to blowing off steam</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plunder

**Author's Note:**

> Penknife's post here http://penknife.livejournal.com/249152.html got me thinking about how I thought about their relationship, and the fact that my default is switchy, but Barbossa doesn't seem like the type who'd let anyone else do the fucking. (Even if he really wants them to.)

By dusk, the merchantman's been left in the _Pearl_ 's wake, licking its wounds, but the crew's still running on the excitement of the battle. There will probably be a few fistfights, Barbossa knows, and some heavy breathing belowdecks and like as not someone or other will be hanging over the railings come dawn -- all ways for the men to blow off steam. But that's not the job for the Captain _or_ the First Mate, and Bosun would never forgive either of them for depriving him of his own kind of post-battle fun.

Captain Sparrow upends his bottle of rum, but that's nothing unusual. He can drink more to less effect than any man Barbossa's ever seen. No, Barbossa suspects he knows what's on Sparrow's mind.

His suspicion is confirmed a few minutes later, when Sparrow smiles that slow smile of his and says "Hector, would you care to join me in my quarters?"

He grins back. "It'd be me pleasure, Jack."

They've barely slammed the door shut when Sparrow slams him against it, all tongue and fingers and hips grinding in slow circles. It takes Barbossa only moments to get hard; he has to push Sparrow away. "I'd hate to disappoint yeh by firing before yer order, Captain ... Jaaack."

Sparrow nods and staggers back, fetches a small jar from the drawer by his desk. He bends over, yanks at one boot, loses his balance and falls face-first onto the bed. He rolls over onto his back and sits up to pull his boots off, then stands to kick off his breeches.

He positions himself at the end of the bed, his back to Barbossa. Looks over his shoulder as he opens the jar, slicks his fingers ... then bends down. Barbossa watches, mouth dry, as Sparrow slides two slicked fingers inside himself. It should hurt (had hurt, when he'd been the one facedown on the bed) but the way Sparrow's cock twitches he's clearly enjoying this.

He slides a third finger in, twists his hands, and his hips start to rock. After a moment, Barbossa realizes he's rocking too, as if hypnotized by those fingers sliding in and out. When Sparrow pulls his fingers out, Barbossa's not sure which of them lets out the needy whimper.

Then Sparrow groans, jerks his head down, and spreads his legs wider. "Damn you, Hector, _fuck_ me already.

"Greedy, greedy, greedy," Barbossa murmurs, feeling something almost like affection for the younger man. He staggers forward on legs that feel like he's on shore for the first time in months. He pulls Sparrow's hair back and wraps the ropy strands around his hand. A tug pulls Sparrow's head toward him, and the rest of him follows, parting his arse cheeks and exposing the slicked, ready hole between them. Barbossa waits just a moment to let the suspense build, then thrusts in, buries himself to the bollocks in one smooth stroke.

Sparrow lets out a mewling cry and clutches back at him, and Barbossa sets a rhythm like the waves pounding the shore, rides the other man until he feels him clenching around his prick, which is enough to push him over the edge and for just a moment, as things are exploding and cresting and crashing inside him he's the one facedown on the bed while Sparrow plunders _him_ and

he collapses, shuddering, on top of Sparrow. Rolls off, onto his back and lies there, legs hanging over the end of the bed, night breezes gently cooling his heated prick.

Sparrow turns his head, grins at him. "Thanks, mate," he says. "Just what I needed."

For a moment, Barbossa almost says _next time maybe you could do all the work_ but he suppresses the notion and the moment passes. He rolls himself to his feet, goes to wash himself off. Sparrow doesn't call him back, but then, Barbossa doesn't expect him to.


End file.
